


Blue

by janescott



Category: Actor RPF, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-25
Updated: 2011-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That damn out-take ... this was meant to be longer. And pornier. But it's not. Also  I've hand-waved both of their real-life relationships. Because I can. Beta'd by magenta</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Fan-fic for fun, and not profit. :-)

“Tell me what you want.”

Michael’s voice is low, right against James’s ear, the corners of his ridiculous wig tickling James’s cheekbones.

James pulls his head back, and stares at Michael, his eyes wide, his nerve-endings suddenly prickling. Absently he licks his lips as vivid answers crash into his mind. He rubs his palms on his thighs, welcoming the brief distraction of rough fabric against his skin.

He shifts in his chair as his cock swells, confined by his trousers, but half-hard, just from Michael’s _voice_.

 _I want to push that damn dress up over you hips and ride you until we’re both sweating and I can’t tell where you end and I start any more._

 _I want to fuck you until you come just from the feel of me inside you. I want to be inside you and feel you tight around me._

 _I want your mouth on me, and I want to taste you, your skin and your mouth and I want to see you on your knees, that fucking dress rucked up over your thighs and watch your face as I come …_

 _I want to kiss my own taste out of your mouth. I want ..._

He doesn’t say any of this out loud. Instead he shoves a hand through his hair, just too hard, to still his spinning brain.

He looks Michael in the eye, and lets his gaze linger on his long, lean _ridiculous_ form in that damn blue dress, that’s just the wrong side of too short, so James can _see_ where the garter is gripping the top of the fishnet stockings …

They’re the last ones on set, sitting at one of the tables in the strip club set-up and up until then had been idly talking about the day’s shoot, and laughing over Michael’s stunt with the dress, which he had pulled right at the end of the day.

Neither of them are laughing now, as Michael sprawls back in his seat, his legs carelessly angled so that if James wanted to he could see - he shakes his head and searches what he can see of Michael’s eyes in the dim light.

 _All or nothing_ , he thinks before taking a deep breath and standing up. He moves until he’s standing between Michael’s legs, winding one finger through the strap holding the dress in place.

“You,” he says, before leaning down, hoping Michael can hear _everything_ James needs him to in that one word. “I want you.”


End file.
